Smile
by Diary
Summary: Blaise Zabini's observations of Millicent Bulstrode throughout the years. Complete. Edited slightly.


Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter.

* * *

Blaise Zabini is six when he first sees _her_. He won't know her name for five more years.

She's a strange-looking girl, big and bulky, her soft, baby pink jumper and floaty white skirt at odds with her face and body. Her hair is cut above her ears, off her neck, and he'd think she was a boy if not for the feminine clothes. What he finds fascinating is her scowling mouth and big, dark brown eyes, darker than his and his mum's.

He wants to see her smile, see what it looks like, but two grown-ups, both wearing long robes, faces covered with scarves and hoods, hold on tightly to her hands, and just as he gets the courage to dig out some sweets from his mum's pockets, he turns to find the three of them gone.

…

The next time he sees _her_, he's eight.

She's wearing trousers this time, running around free of hooded figures, and he finds himself staring. Her scowl is replaced by a look of fierce concentration as she skips and runs, wearing a plain gray jumper. Her hair is in a single plait, and he has a package of cards in his robes and a broom in his hands. He wants to challenge her to game and offer to let her ride the broom, hoping one of those will make her smile, but his new stepfather distracts him, and when he looks back, she's gone.

…

A year before Hogwarts, he sees _her _again, only this time, she's only wearing pants.

He finds himself gaping, wondering if she's mad or rebellious or just, somehow, doesn't realise she's almost completely starkers. Even the boys who run around shirtless do so with trousers or shorts on.

Except, there she is, dark eyes, long hair in a bun, walking in only her bottom undergarments, oblivious to the scowls and glares and concerned looks some people shoot her.

It probably wouldn't be so disarming if not for the fact her chest isn't completely flat, and he decides then and there, she's one of the most sensible girls he's ever seen. It's hot out, and older girls, the ones with developed chests, always seem to suffer more than boys, but they never do the smart thing and strip down; they always have something over their chest, even when it seems as if common sense would tell them otherwise.

Before he can get over to her to introduce himself and ask if she wants some ice-cream and to go swimming in the nearby lake, a hag flies, almost literally, through people, grabbing the girl and dragging her away, saying something too quiet to hear. Aside from looking annoyed, the girl doesn't seem to be upset or scared.

…

_Bulstrode, Millicent_ is the name called out, and he watches as the girl with a French plait and dark eyes sits down.

It takes about five minutes, and then, a silver and green crest is appearing on her upper right pocket.

Blaise wants to be in Ravenclaw, badly. He's always gotten good grades, no matter if it was from tutors or muggle teachers, and he loves riddles and crosswords. He once read the dictionary and always makes his mum word calendars for her birthday. He takes pride in his grasp of words, in his understanding of knowing the theories behind the spells he's practised due to his mum thinking the statute against deliberate underage magic ridiculous.

Now, though, some part wonders about Slytherin. He doesn't want it, but he wants to be near the girl he's been randomly seeing for the last few years.

When he's put in Slytherin, he hopes the hat didn't do it because of _her_ and he looks for her, wanting to sit next to her. Unfortunately, she's already got two people beside her and one across from her.

…

He never approaches her, not until second year.

She's a quiet, almost invisible presence, and everyone knows about his mum. She's the only one who never asks or even looks at him, and it's nice not having someone going on about 'Black Widow Zabini'.

In second year, she puts a bushy-haired girl in a headlock, and he finds himself listening as Snape scolds her.

"It's hag magic," she says, voice sharp and unforgiving. "Geraldine of Rox manipulated the elements so that she could protect her colony, Professor, and that rapist, John Lockley, stole the idea and used it to rape and kill her. She wanted to kill that innocent troll last year, never mind that it was too stupid to break into the castle by itself, and now, she was trying to do the same thing, using my foremother's magic against me."

Of course, he's always known she had hag blood; even at six, he'd known the hags she travelled with were family rather than kidnappers. He'd never stopped to think, though, that she might be _proud _of her hag heritage. Hags are carnivorous thieves, prone to murder and hurting children.

The Bloody Baron appears and glares him away before he can hear Snape's response.

Later, in the common room, he stops her by the staircase leading down to the girl's dorm and offers her a box of cockroach clusters. She eyes him suspiciously but accepts the box, briefly nodding her head before going down.

…

In third year, they're partnered together for an assignment in astronomy, and he finds her unnerving.

She trails behind when they walk to the library, refuses to eat when he's around, and writes notes in lieu of talking to him.

When he finds himself complaining to the other boys, Nott looks up from his book and says, "She either fancies you, or she's scared of you."

"Why would she be scared of me," he asks, bewildered, rolling his eyes at the hoots the others give. "I don't think she fancies me! I just don't understand why she'd be scared of me. She's making straight Os in charms, and her cat would probably eat the face off anyone who tried to hurt her."

He never receives a satisfactory answer, though, and they finish their project, going separate ways.

…

During the Yule Ball, she wears her school robes and sits in the corner, writing.

Earlier, he'd heard Snape coldly inform her and Nott that attendance was mandatory.

He's tempted to ask her to dance, but he's not a small child, any longer, the type who thinks the possibility of a smile is worth the chance of humiliation. Perhaps, he never was; when he first saw her, the idea of being harshly rebuffed didn't cross his conscious mind.

….

"Leave it be."

Scoffing, he doesn't slow down in his stride. "Nice House loyalty you've got, Nott."

"This has to do with you fancying Bulstrode," Nott says, bluntly, finally causing him to stop. "She's not a damsel-in-distress, Blaise."

"She's in a coma," Blaise hisses. "She tried to stop Dumbledore's Army, and they get even by forcing her to eat something that could have killed her!"

"Wake up, Blaise," Nott says, quietly. "There's a war waging, one our ministry is only now deciding to join in on. She knew what those sweets were, and she willingly ate them. You know what Beings are some of the first to suffer heavy attacks when there's a war? Hags, Zabini. Whatever her personal feelings toward the dream team and Dumbledore's Army, they have a better chance at ending this war than anyone. This wasn't about vengeance. She was in the way, and she voluntarily removed herself."

Sighing, Blaise sits down on a nearby bench. "It's funny," he notes, "how everyone thinks I don't know, don't understand. Bulstrode ran off and cried when Dumbledore took our House cup away. So did our seventh year Head Boy. I imagine a lot of them cried. What's the one House who's never made fun of her for her hag blood to her face? Ours. Most of us don't even do it behind her back. None of them have shown any concern for her; she's in a coma, a coma their modified sweets put her in, and so what? She's just the hag Slytherin who got in the way. You and Malfoy are just the sons of death eaters. Which House do you think is going to lose the most people? Which House is going to have the most people thrown in Azkaban? How many of us are going to lose family, and what are the Gryffindors, Ravenclaws, and Hufflepuffs going to say when we do? That we deserved it."

"Congratulations," Nott answers, sitting down beside him. "You do understand. Now, understand this: If they'd managed to force her, there'd be significantly more damage to them. She let them think she was being forced, and she ate them. Because everything important she does is for her family. Right, wrong, moral, amoral, immoral, none it matters, Blaise. Everyone has to have someone to look down on, every society has to have some group to discriminate against. It's Slytherin's turn, now, and someday, it'll be one of the others. The best thing to is for everyone to look out for themselves and theirs. You're not one of hers, and you may fancy her, but she's not one of yours."

Scoffing, he stands up, and then, goes to retrieve a book he's seen her reading before and takes it to the hospital wing, quietly reading to her.

…

When he's seventeen, war is everywhere.

He goes to classes and ignores the torture, the crying, and the blatantly untrue propaganda even Pansy and the other blood purists can recognise as ridiculous. He worries about his mother but is very careful what he does and doesn't write to her. He keeps his homework as bland as possible, only adding the necessary condemnation of all things impure.

One day, an elf slips him a book, advising, "Sir should read it alone, not showing it to anyone."

In his bed, curtains closed, he finds a copy of The Quibbler, his breath catching.

On the front cover is a picture of a marching hag colony, the caption explaining they're trying to go to Russia. Leading the formation, protectively surrounded by it, is Bulstrode. Her head is head high, her hair chopped above her ears, her wand drawn, as she strides with purpose.

Blaise knows the colony isn't going to Russia. The magazine is still an openly staunch defender of those deemed inferior. The picture is propaganda, a piece of hope for all those targeted by the Dark Lord. Lovegood wouldn't risk the colony's safety by giving any of their secrets away.

He's thankful he doesn't know where the true destination is. He doesn't know her well enough to where she might decide is the best place to go, or where she would and wouldn't agree to go to.

…

A few months later, she turns up again, slashing a death eater's face with her long, sharp nails.

"Thank you," he gasps, breath returning too quickly now that a wand is no longer jammed at his throat.

"Do you have a wand," she inquires as she applies her nails to the death eater's neck, forcing them to relquinsh theirs.

"No," he answers, managing to stand up despite his wobbly legs.

"Then, stick with me. I'm not giving this one up."

"What happened to yours," he asks as they duck behind a staircase.

"Snatchers. The colony that accepted my family was attacked; some of them made it to China, some were captured."

"Your family?"

Wordlessly body-binding a passing death eater, she flings them to a nearby wall, sticking them to it. "They made it. I wasn't leaving the others behind. Do you know where Longbottom is?"

"No."

"Do as you like," she says, eyes scanning the room as she summons the death eater's wand and hands it to him. "I'm going to find him."

Staying close, he walks next to her. "Any particular reason?"

"I met a goblin," she answers. "Saved my life, I reckon I owe him a debt. He'd give his for the Longbottom family."

"Careful," he warns.

"Careful? Of Longbottom?"

"He's gotten powerful," Blaise says. "More than that, he isn't above torture. One of ours, a younger year, knocked over his goblet one day when he was still eating in the Great Hall. She did it on purpose, but in response, some of his army tried to literally attack her. Nott and some of the others protected her. A few days later, Nott was captured. When we found him, it turns out it was some of Longbottom's army."

Cursing, she hisses, "This is why I hate life debts."

"What about you? How'd you escape?"

"Malfoy's gotten weak," she answers, as they lift an unconscious elf and place him on a bench, her casting a protective bubble around him. "I was taken to the Manor; he was ready to kill me, but he hesitated."

"How many life debts do you owe?"

"None to him," she answers, sharply. "Life debts are about someone saving another person, not deciding to spare them or failing to kill them."

Then, they see Longbottom, leg crushed under debris.

…

Afterwards, they sit together in the Great Hall.

"Are you going to head to China, then?"

"Just to get my family," she answers. "They'd probably be happier there, but if our cottage is still standing, my grandmum'll insist on moving back. My grandfather bought it for them. What about you, Zabini?"

"I think I'm going to Italy. I have citizenship there. See if things are better."

Shocking him, she reaches over and briefly squeezes his wrist. "Good luck."

"Bulstrode!"

"I might see you around," she adds, standing up and walking towards Longbottom, Ginny Weasley, and a small goblin.

…

Blaise is twenty-six when he first sees her smile.

He bumps into her, literally, in a small café. Her hair's in a braided bun underneath her pointed, black hat, her eyes as dark as ever, and she's wearing purple robes.

Once apologises are made, he buys her a glass of prune juice to replace her spilt one.

"How've you been, Bulstrode?"

"Good," she answers, squeezing some lemon into the juice. "I'm a bondswitch. I'm surprisingly popular with Gringotts. What about you?"

"I have a store chain: BZ's Robes and Footwear. It's gotten popular in Italy, and I'm seeing about branching out to here."

"Congratulations. Your mother is doing well?"

"As well as can be expected," he answers with a sigh. "She got married last month. How's your mum and grandmum?"

"Good," she answers, a small smile crossing her face. "The villagers have gotten more tolerant, and I make enough money to adequately support them."

He remembers seeing her for the first time, remembers wanting to dance with her at the Yule Ball, and how it felt when she squeezed his wrist. "Would you like to have dinner with me?"

Surprise crosses her face.

"I sort of fancied you at Hogwarts, but with my mum and the likes of Malfoy, I wasn't in a place to date anyone," he explains.

For a moment, she considers it. "Okay," she agrees. "But I insist on paying my own way. When's a good time for you?"


End file.
